


Wally West's inability to shut up got us in this mess, Clark fucks his way out of it.

by CHlMAERA



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Crack, Gay Sex, Issa three part shot now because it got longer than intended, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, actually don't, big buff men go at it after confessing sue me, may be slightly ooc but i tried my best, what else what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-05 23:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20281531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHlMAERA/pseuds/CHlMAERA
Summary: Title says it all, Wally embarrasses the hell out of the batman in a situation that every other Justice League,Titans and Teen titans member knew and wanted to avoid like the plague, chaos ensues.





	1. Of Coffee Crushes and Bad moments

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for DC so...I hope it's good, Comments and criticisms are appreciated of course ^^

“So…” With the air hanging around the group so thick you could cut it with a knife and so tense it needed to see a chiropractor, Wally West, resident speedster and airhead, really didn’t want to be here anymore. At all. If he wouldn’t die from lack of oxygen he would’ve ran right through the reinforced walls of the Watchtower right at this moment. 

So really, he was unfortunately stuck there. 

In a chair that was suddenly becoming too small for his tastes. In a suit that was getting sweatier by the minute. Next to a Green Arrow who in his nervousness was getting chattier and chattier. “I mean, it had to happen event-” “Oliver.” His wife, Dinah cut from next to him. She looked as exasperated as anyone else in the room, her head cradled in her hands as she struggled to not scream at Wally until his ear drums gave and his molecular structure did the same. “Love, you know i’m right everyone knew! Honestly how Clark _ didn’t _is the biggest mystery, I thought he was just not interested-” “OLIVER QUEEN.” And Wally got to witness Green Arrow cower in his chair from his wife’s murderous glare. 

Diana was there too, regal, composed Diana, currently pouring red bull into her coffee before saying a silent prayer to her gods and downing it like it was a beer chugging competition. Wally cringed, that must have tasted _ vile _ , but then again he saw Dick drink worse if he was being honest. Like that time Roy dared him to drink a blend of anchovies and banana milk- “Flash.” Wonder woman’s voice was _ strained _ to say the least. And Wally wondered just how _ long _had everyone been skirting around this subject and acting like nothing was ever going on. “Y..yeah?” his own voice sounded quiet, too quiet, like a child after being scolded by his very disappointed parents. “Maybe you should-” She covered her mouth politely as she undoubtedly even though silently burped, from the concoction she decided to intake most probably. Hal side eyed her. “- Excuse me. Maybe you should retire to your quarters for the night, yes?” 

And what was Wally about to do? Disobey Diana Prince? Get tied like a kickboxing bag with the lasso of truth in the gym, to be pummelled by Batman later no doubt for embarrassing him? He thought not. 

So Wally did like a good boy scout and got up, relieved to be excused of this egg shell situation, and boy did he run way too fast out that room, he could smell the scorch marks on the ceramic tiling that he undoubtedly had to clean later. Fuck.

So what _ had _happened that made this grand disaster, well, happen?

A joke, that’s what happened. One very ill placed, very out of place joke that Wally tried to break the ice with when before a briefing by Wonder Woman and Aquaman on the situation of a new alien threat, Batman came in with coffee, which would be fine and normal, if he also didn’t have coffee for Superman with him. One that Clark definitely did not ask for beforehand because he thanked Batman for “thinking of me, pal.” 

Wally didn’t notice how no one mentioned any of this.

Wally didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

Wally didn’t even _ try. _

“What, are you guys like, dating?” The redhead said with a laugh, because if he was being honest it was kind of cute that Batman was getting coffee for his boyfriend. The others didn’t think it was funny. Batman definitely didn’t think it was funny because he struggled to not crush the tiny plastic cup in his grasp. Clark however, DID think it was funny, Clark thought it was hilarious if his booming laugh was anything to go by. Clark with his ever smiling, sparkling ocean blue eyes- maybe he understood why Batman crushed so hard on him now. “Oh buddy nah, B and I are best friends, right?” Clark had said as he looked up, still all smiles, to a Batman that was getting redder and redder under his cowl. “....Right.” B added after a silence that was too fat for everyone in the room to not notice, except Clark again. Wally had made the fatal mistake however of trying to dispel an awkward situation by doubling down on it like a cardiac arrest after someone decides to eat 2 KFC double downs in a row. “Right.” he had laughed and then added “Like no one can see the crush B has on you. He brings you coffee! He brings none of us coffee!.” Clark had tilted his head like a confused golden retriever being told that he can’t have a treat at that and then turned back to the caped crusader, who looked like he wanted to launch himself into orbit. “Is it true B-” 

But it was too late. Very late. For Batman had already turned heel out the meeting room ( very uncharacteristically Wally thought, adding more to the fact that he had somehow embarrassed Batman that ** _bad_ **) and marched off to god knows where as fast as his legs could carry him without outright running, billowing black cape after him, coffee in hand. 

The mixed expressions on the faces of various Justice League members made Wally realise just how much he had fucked up. Black Canary immediately buried her head in her arms like an ostrich in sand. Green Arrow all too suddenly found the tips of his arrows so very interesting and in need of inspection. Aquaman was struggling to not rip a snort in front of everyone and excused himself to the bathroom, only for everyone to hear him laugh his ass off from a corridor away. Hal was busy being...Hal. Diana stole Clark’s coffee after Clark had gotten up to chase after the caped crusader after distressingly telling Hal to “Stop calling him my vampire boyfriend, he’s _ just pale _ and _ Hal we’re not dating even if I lik- you know what i’m leaving”. _

All in all the night (..or was it day? Outside was pitch black anyways) had started resembling a sketch by comedy central and for one Wally was not laughing.

So here was Wally West, stripped down and in his bed looking at the ceiling. There was a crack in the paint that resembled his current state of mind. He was thinking of asking Supes if he could spin around the moon a couple times backwards and reverse time back to when this never happened, but he doubted if Clark even wanted to look at him right now. So he shut his eyes, hugged his pillow, covered his chest so he wouldn’t get chilly, rolled over and went to sleep. Wally really hoped the events of today wouldn’t fuel some fanfiction type of dreams involving the two buff men.


	2. Of Black Knights and Caped confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's late as hell, this is already like 1k long, so it's going to be a three parter I guess because I hate my damn self, enjoy enjoy

_“Hal we’re not dating even if I like him!” _Kent’s own words rang in his ears clear as day. _“Like no one can see the crush B has on you.” _Wally’s own words resounded in there as well, haunting him almost. Did Bruce really like **_him?_** The country bumpkin from Smallville? The hick who worked at the Daily Planet and everyone considered this meek nobody? Bruce Wayne, Brucie Wayne, playboy philanthropist, technically his _boss. _

Maybe he has this weird power fantasy kink over the alien. Can’t overpower him physically so might as well own the guy’s workplace right?? And his apartment building. Fuck, did he wear Wayne clothing while he was at it??? 

Clark checked his boxer briefs. 

And sighed a breath of relief when he saw that they were indeed not from Bruce’s company. A small victory. He probably couldn’t afford whatever fancy new silk Bruce had covering his, and the Gotham socialites’, derrieres anyways.

If Clark was admitting to himself, yes he did like the blackette back, he thought those chiselled high cheek-bones were beautiful and those almost silver, hauntingly pale ice blue eyes followed him in his dreams. Clark _ knew _ he was smitten. Clark had known he had fallen for Bruce’s weirdly charming and yet positively scary antics a long time ago. Like how they always sparred together, how B somehow knew how he preferred his coffee down to milk froth and temperature (even if he himself would just reheat the cold pot with his heat vision, no one needed to know his life style sins), how Bruce, ever the loner and paranoiac, considered the Kent his _ best friend. _ Not Diana, Not Hal (he snorted at even thinking that), Not Arthur. _ Him. _

Oh.

The Kryptonian suddenly started seeing the pieces conveniently fall in place. The unconditional trust. The fact that only Clark had access to his quarters, to his _ secret lab. _ That only Clark knew his secret identity for so _ long. _The jumps of complete trust, so sure Clark would grab him last moments during missions. The sparring with Clark whenever the kryptonian was available. The fact that Clark was invited in his house whenever. And god what a house that place was HUGE- 

Not the moment Kent. Not the moment.

The final nail in the metaphorical coffin, or Wally’s real one after Batman’s dignity was so harshly beat, was the fact that whenever Bruce visited the Daily Planet (to check on “stocks” and “production” and more fancy mathematical words that Clark didn’t understand, he had an english degree dammit not one in business!) he’d always somehow magically float around Clark, in his very charming if airheaded Brucie persona. Sometimes leaning on him, sometimes flirting, ALWAYS asking what he was up to. 

...Clark had always chalked it up to Bruce wanting to annoy him. Oh boy. So those gazes they sometimes shared after missions weren’t one-sided after all.

If Wally was wrong about this, he was going to crush him like a soda can himself.

Even though this new evidence proved **quite **the contrary. He hoped at least.

“You’re really as dense as a brick, Kent.” Hal had said to him once when he asked about Bruce’s love life, under the impression he was dating some model from Brooklyn.

“Oh...sweetie,I think he does like you-” and when Batman had entered the kitchen at that moment she had snippily added “-as a friend!” and muttered something about having to talk to Hawkgirl before deserting him. _ Thanks Diana. _

Lois Lane had turned to him, perfectly plucked eyebrow raised in confusion, after Brucie Wayne had left his office building on one of his ‘visits’. “Are you two like-” and he had cut her off, assuming she was talking about how they were close friends. “Yeah we’re...long time friends.” Clark had added, the distaste of the word like ash in his mouth. He suddenly remembered how the plucky reporter’s eyes had widened before narrowing in that way when all the pieces of an article suddenly clicked in her head. “Oh Smallville, what will we do with you.” And then she left _ AS WELL. _ ** _THANKS, LOIS. _ **

The next time she needed help with that Olsen guy or someone else he was sure as hell- “Oop-!” the blackette felt himself bump into something or rather, someone. 

Oh fuck.

Deep blue eyes met white visor slits.

_ Oh, fuck. _

“Are you done following me, Superman?” Ouch. Batman obviously was _ not _ happy to see him at all if the tone of his voice was anything to go by. Clark gulped. “I, well, now that I found you yes-” Bruce cut in again, harsher, sharper. “What do you want.” It was more demand than question, Clark noted.

Clark steeled himself, he was not going to get intimidated by fucking Bruce-

Ok maybe he was.

Just a bit.

But can you blame him, the guy once made a roach die just by staring menacingly at it.

“I wanted to...talk” Clark started hesitant. “About.” Again, closed, guarded. Kent huffed. “About what just happened Br-” A glare. “Batman.” He was so weird sometimes Clark swore to god like not everyone already knew of his secret identity after the Titans formed. Why did he like this guy so much again?

Bruce sighed, soft, almost inaudible if it wasn’t for Superman’s…super...hearing. Clark cringed at his own thought. “There’s...nothing to talk about.” And Batman turned to walk away and presumably brood if it wasn’t for Clark’s quick hands and even quicker temper. So he lifted the dark knight from under his armpits (like a disobedient cat, Clark thought) and carried him to his own closed and afterwards locked quarters.

That’s right. Clark Kent, Superman, stole Gotham’s silent vigilante.

What else was he supposed to do? Let the guy he wanted to spend the rest of his life with go brood? Maybe another day.

“What the fuck are you doing Clark?!” Bruce’s rage came out sneering, his perfect white teeth bared like a dog about to bite. He really wouldn’t mind being bitten Clark thought. Bruce had other plans obviously, as he kicked the alien’s side and only succeeded in falling ass first on the soft cot their quarters provided. 

Clark really tried not to laugh at how Bruce thought he’d feel that kick. He had to bite his cheek to not grin at how flustered Bruce looked at being picked up like a naughty child. “I said I wanted to talk no?” The Smallville ‘native’ sat down on a chair opposite where Bruce was currently huddled on the bed, knowing full well he didn’t have any escape route out of this situation. And maybe, just maybe, a small part of him that wasn’t preoccupied with fear and an image to keep, wanted this situation. And badly.

So by some miracle that Clark wasn’t sure who to thank for, Bruce settled down to ‘talk’.

  



	3. Of Ripped suits and Sweet nothings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally I finished...Thanks so much to everyone who left and kudos and commented you're all really kind. <3

Stony blue eyes bore into lapis ones. There was a look of faux haughtiness in them, like the owner was just waiting for Clark to step out of line and jump him for it. And maybe that  _ was  _ what Bruce was looking for. Another weakness to put in his neatly kept secure folders.

“Talk, Kent.” Clark’s nostrils flared, feeling like he was being poked like some kind of feral dog almost.  _ He wasn’t even the one who got all offended and stormed off in the first place!  _

But really, if the Batman was honest with himself, he knew this was a carefully constructed act much like his other persona. He couldn’t justify looking like a love sick puppy around Earth’s finest just because he  _ liked  _ Kent. Was it even just a crush now, after all these years, or did he actually love the farm boy?

He didn’t have the answer to that, and it scared him.

All of it scared him. The deep deep plunge into his meticulously buried romantic feelings was worse than any fall off Gotham sky scrapers, worse than the time he broke his back even! At least when he landed that time he actually survived. 

Would he survive confessing his affections for Clark? Bruce was more than happy to keep it all to himself until  _ Wally _ had to open his mouth and spill everything out. How did WALLY notice. Maybe he wasn’t as good at hiding it as he had originally thought. And what was he supposed to say? “No, focus on your work.” he could have, fairly easily, yet a small part of him hoped the Kryptonian returned his feelings, and he couldn’t risk extinguishing that flame, no matter if he could see it clearly or no. 

Because Clark was charming. He was so many things Bruce wanted to be and just  _ wanted.  _ Pining and flustering like a boy of 15 around his first crush, here he thought he had killed that part of him long ago. Clark Kent was sunshine, was happiness. Clark was loved and for good reason, he brought hope, not just to his people but to Bruce too. In his worried and tired mind, stoic and jaded from years of being abused by freakshows who loved to make his life hell, Clark was his solace.

Bruce snorted. 

A small grin grew on his pale features as he watched Clark ramble on. He always rambled on when nervous or excited, maybe he was both. Boy he really fell for this country boy and his rugged charms didn’t he? His kids would have a field day once they learned of this, last week’s “Bruce Kent” by Dick was bad enough. And it stuck.

“Did I say something funny?” Clark looked at him, dark brows furrowed and eyes pensive. “Are you even list-” no, he wasn’t listening, not really. He was too busy trying to not have his suddenly pounding heart jump out his chest from this very unfavourable situation. There was no time to carefully calculate a way out of this. So Batman did a very un-Batman like thing, and plunged.

Clark was still rambling, bless him, something about how the situation was serious and Bruce shouldn’t be finding it funny. Articulated leather-clad fingers reached for Clark’s sculpted jaw, so sharp it could cut diamond Wayne wondered once. Kent stopped, words coming to a halt as his gaze followed the blackette’s movements.

Then the Batman was kissing him, lips clashing onto Clark’s with fervour Bruce hadn’t seen in himself for a long time, if ever. And yes, those farm boy plush lips were as soft as he had imagined and wondered about all those lonely nights on patrol. He waited...and waited...and eventually pulled away softly to look upon a dazed looking Clark. Anxiety bubbled in his stomach as he wondered what the alien would say until “So you  _ do _ like me.”

Icy eyes roll, and Kent grins at the exasperated expression. Bruce with flushed cheeks is  _ cute  _ Clark thinks, he wouldn’t mind seeing more of that. 

“Yes, Cl-” That’s all the Kryptonian needs before he’s on the Gothamite again, calloused hands pushing down on Kevlar with what he knows is too much force, because he hears the man below him gasp, surprised. Bruce Wayne, surprised. Their lips collided again, more passionate than the first, mostly because Clark was an active participant this time. Fervent sounds of lips being sucked and collective groans resounded around the small room. Kent bites Bruce’s reddening lower lip and the man lets out a shaky breath, fingers tangling themselves in gelled curly black hair, mussing it up and tugging at it in ways that make Clark hiss, eyes wrenching shut. 

“Take this off.” Clark tugs at the cowl as if it offended him.  _ It did.  _ “Why-” Bruce would’ve looked puzzled if Clark could actually see his eyes clearly. “Because I want to sleep with Bruce not Batman, now take it off.” The caped crusader felt his heart squeeze painfully. He reached up to his cowl and carefully took it out, hand running through his matted short hair before he looked up at the man currently trapping him against the bed. “Better?” His words were few, carefully chosen yet laden with emotion that was churning in his burning chest. 

Clark took a moment to look at him, into those beautiful, beautiful eyes and ruffled hair. At someone  ** _human._ ** “Stop staring it’s weird..” Clark chuckled, soft, sweet. “Why, are you flustered, Bruce?” He hummed feeling a warm hand cup his cheek, and then he saw the gauntlets on the metal floor. “Shut up.” Fingers carded through his locks, tugging at them, egging him forward. Lips and teeth teased his mouth, sucking and nibbling and driving him up the wall. It didn’t help that their bodies were so damn close together you couldn’t fit a paper between the two and Clark was already getting hard by simply kissing alone. 

_ Maybe he was...thirstier (as Conner put it)...than he thought. _

Bruce grunted, no doubt because he felt Clark’s hard-on press against his inner thigh already. He pushed the younger man slightly, and then tried to ignore Clark’s pouting and messy adorable expression, and gripped the collar of the supersuit.

Clark raised an eyebrow.

And then heard the ripping noises and the feel of warm hands roaming his naked chest and stomach.

“You  _ ripped  _ my suit?!” The look of disbelief would’ve stopped Bruce from his expedition if the current terrain his hands were exploring wasn’t so  _ interesting.  _ “You saw me do it.” Bruce’s voice sounded too strained for his tastes, his mouth too dry. He swallowed. By god what did they feed this boy in Kansas. Eager digits roamed the curves of trembling muscles, every dip and edge and groove. From his ample and built chest to the deep V that looked sculpted out of marble. He truly was fucking perfect. “Bruce-!” Wayne’s hands reached the back of his suit, cupping his ass, and ripped there too, taking pleasure in Clark’s surprised squeaking coupled with the sounds of ripping fabric. “I’ll buy you a new one.” He said, as if given the chance he wouldn’t rip that new one to shreds too.

Clark grit his teeth when he felt something that was most definitely a finger prod and part its way through his ass cheeks and circle his tight heat. “Metropolis’ hero doesn’t wear underwear hm?” Bruce snickered, and it made Clark want to slam him in the wall and fuck him right there. “You fucking  _ ripped  _ it Bruce- Shit.” He gasped as he felt the tip of said finger slide in him, reflexively clenching around the foreign object. His eyes darkened when he saw Bruce’s Adam’s apple bob. “I’ll buy you a new pair too.” Clark could hear Bruce’s quickened heartbeat, could feel the way the free hand that wasn’t trying to part him was anchored on his hip like Clark would drift away otherwise. Could see how the older man’s eyes were so blown that the ice blue ring was barely visible anymore. The shallow finger suddenly retreated from the tight ring of muscle and Clark whined (not his proudest moment.) “You’re still dressed.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “And?” Clark reached towards the kevlar alloy hybrid protecting the Batman’s chest. “And, take it off or I will” He leaned down to whisper in his ear, not missing the hungry gaze at how his naked chest pressed against the armoured one. “And yours will be much more expensive to replace, batboy.” 

Clark sat pleased on his heels as he watched Bruce begrudgingly take off his layers of armour, eyes peeled at the ivory skin below. It looked...soft, and he wanted to oh so desperately touch and feel. His gaze roamed the expanse of chest and stomach, tracing the scars and curves with his tongue.  _ Couldn’t he hurry up already?  _ But it seemed like the billionaire enjoyed pressing his buttons by taking off everything, especially his pants, tortuously slow. Clark felt his mouth water as his eyes landed between pale thighs. Batman had the audacity to berate him for underwear when he was running around in a jockstrap, one that was barely holding it together that is, pressed to its limits with the Gothamite’s hot arousal pressing and leaking against the white fabric. 

Clark hooked his fingers under it, snapping the elastic. “That’s better.” Bruce parted his thighs more instinctively. He was  _ proportionate _ , standing to attention and cut, with a visible bulging vein and a pink tip that was leaking and twitching whenever Clark so much as brushed near the vicinity. Bruce kept it  _ clean _ he wondered, manscaped and shaved except for a faint happy trail leading to his navel. The man of the hour grunted, suddenly feeling scrutinised, faint blush decorating his face. “Don’t like it?” he asked, tone edging to sharp. 

Clark gripped it in his hand, relishing in the soft moan Bruce let out under him as he lazily tugged and jerked him off, thumb smearing precum on the tip. “You’re beautiful.” It was cheesy he knew, and yet here was Batman diverting his gaze as he got redder. His hips started rocking in time with Clark’s gentle stroking, stuttering when the younger man squeezed him. Bruce hissed, eyes squinting. “Don’t tease me, Kent.” 

The next few moments were a blur, between another round of frenzied kisses and edging batman so he would  _ maybe  _ behave, Clark had somehow gotten the small bottle of lube he kept in his room for…reasons. He ignored the questioning look Bruce gave him as he poured the slick liquid on his hand and fingers. “You’re sure you want to do this, right?” Clark asked, eyes peeled and ears sharp for Bruce’s response. “Yes.” It was breathy, and it made the Kryptonian licks his lips. “Okay.” his free hand lifted his thighs up for better access before dipping his fingers in. Digits circling the tense ring of muscle before pushing in one finger slowly, watching Bruce’s face tense and suddenly relax all at once. He felt a hesitant clench as he started thrusting that finger in him. 

Bruce bit his lip, looking between his parted legs to where Clark was slowly easing him open. He added a second finger, scissoring them and thrusting them deeper, and Bruce felt hot adrenaline rush down his spine and thighs. He pants when he feels those superhuman fingers brush and prod at his swollen prostate, tongue peeking out his mouth and eyes lidded like some perverse model in an erotic magazine. He was  _ sure _ he looked quite the sight right now. He wonders if Clark is going to finish him like this. If it would be greedy to ask for more than to be finger fucked until he finished. When was the last time he bottomed again? 

A keen lilt ripped itself out his throat when he felt the fat blunt tip of his partner press against his now empty self, pushing through the muscle again, stretching him deliciously. Clark felt  _ big,  _ much larger than others he slept with. Of course the others weren’t superhuman aliens either. It felt like Bruce barely had space to breathe as Clark pushed slowly in him, carefully as if the man didn’t fight crime every night and was instead made of fine china. One of his hands cradled itself against his neck, built thighs wrapping around his wide hips, the other next to him gripping the wrinkled sheets below. “Clark..” It sounded like liquid honey, rolled off his tongue just right, he never wanted to stop saying it. Clark’s jaw tightened as he bottomed out and stayed still, waiting for Bruce to adjust, hand returning to stroke his cock again. He saw his lover shift his hips under him, the above human sensitivity making Kent’s thighs clench. “F...ah” Bruce leaned his head back onto the pillow, clenching down. “Fuck me.” 

The blackette obliged, rolling his hips slowly at first, watching at how the figure before him quickly grew restless, usually stoic face twisted in pleasure, swollen red lips parted and eyes closed as Clark rutted into him faster. “Faster.” Demanding more was always in Bruce’s style, Clark wondered why he even entertained the thought it wouldn’t translate in the bedroom. He grit his teeth when a particularly well aimed thrust to the prostate made Bruce gasp and squeeze down on him. His arousal throbbed in Clark’s hand, and he himself felt his cock twitch at the sight alone. 

Icy blue eyes fluttered open to look up at him, hair sweaty and matted to his forehead. He looks relaxed, so much younger. Clark spreads his knees and pulls Bruce’s hips up flush to his. The noise of sheer animalistic want Bruce lets out Clark will never forget. The way Bruce claws at him, wanting him close, the sounds of skin slapping against skin mingling with their noises. Bruce falls apart first, Clark can feel him tighten around him, can feel his thighs tremble, his being approach the edge faster as the pants and grunts devolve into moans. His hand moves from the sheet to brace himself against Clark’s pec as he peaks, finishing on his stomach and his lover’s hand. Clark doesn’t know what pushes him, the hottest thing he’s seen yet in his life, aka Bruce cumming, or the unrelenting tight heat strangling him. Either way, he’s pushed off that elusive edge a few thrusts later, painting the inside of his partner white.

They stay like that for a while, coming down from their respective highs. Clark pulls out and he  _ swears  _ he hears a small whine that Wayne would deny until the end of his days. He shifts down next to the shorter man and Bruce lazily clambers on top of his chest, looking down at him with lazy amusement. Bright eyes twinkle in the dim room and Clark’s suntanned arms wrap around him. Bruce reaches to take one hand off his back and intertwines their fingers together before settling and closing his eyes.

It’s peaceful like this, Bruce thinks while hearing the steady heartbeat below him. Maybe showing his feelings just this once wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe he won’t have to hound Wally for weeks for humiliating him in front of everyone.

He smiles to himself, hearing Clark’s soft slow breathing under him. Bruce could get used to this.


End file.
